


Still Life

by skyblue_reverie



Category: Almost Human (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Community: smallfandombang, M/M, Mystery, Pre-Slash, Small Fandom Big Bang, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:34:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23829931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyblue_reverie/pseuds/skyblue_reverie
Summary: John Kennex is newly back at work at the Department of Supernatural Enforcement after recovering from a coma and has been assigned a vampire partner, Dorian, much to his disgust.  He and Dorian are given a case involving serial killings of vampires. As they investigate the case, John reluctantly comes to respect and like Dorian.  It turns out that there is more to the murders than a simple serial killer, and John discovers that his own past is tangled up in the case.
Relationships: Dorian/John Kennex
Comments: 14
Kudos: 47
Collections: Small Fandoms Bang Round Nine





	Still Life

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the amazing art created for this fic by the very talented [Huntress79](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huntress79/pseuds/Huntress79), integrated into the story below, and also found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23842654). Thank you, bb, for being my collaborator on this big bang! It's been so fun.
> 
> Thank you so much to [](https://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?userid=161443&t=I)[**ivorysilk.livejournal.com**](http://ivorysilk.livejournal.com/) for the beta (and for watching the show just for the purpose of betaing! And for luring me into SGA fandom! And for allowing me to lure her into Disco!), [](https://kat-lair.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**kat_lair**](https://kat-lair.dreamwidth.org/) for the alpha read and concrit (and for addicting me to The Expanse), and [](https://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?userid=86249&t=I)[](http://ennui-blue-lite.livejournal.com/)**ennui-blue-lite.livejournal.com** for cheerleading and moral support (and being my bff, now and always). Thanks also to the mod of [](https://smallfandombang.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](https://smallfandombang.dreamwidth.org/)**smallfandombang** for running the show. You are all AWESOME and I appreciate you!

[](https://images2.imgbox.com/99/c2/s47bqCUH_o.jpg%22%3E<img%20src=)

_The year is 2048. Supernatural creatures, hidden in the shadows for centuries, have been revealed to be part of our society. In addition, rapidly evolving technologies cannot be effectively regulated, and the crime rate has risen 400%. These changes will forever alter the criminal landscape. Law enforcement is not prepared. A new line of defense is created: The Department of Supernatural Enforcement. Now these cops, human and supernatural together, take on the battle to watch over us all._

[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/99/c2/s47bqCUH_o.jpg)

John growled as the insistent ringing of his vidphone interrupted his contemplation of his girlfriend’s face, staring up at him from the tablet in his hand, frozen forever into one golden moment. Ex-girlfriend’s face. Anna. God, she was beautiful. And her smile… The ringing seemed to increase in volume the longer he ignored it, though he was pretty sure that was his imagination. Sighing, he pressed the button to answer the call. It was already late afternoon. That was more of a reprieve than he’d expected from his captain. Usually she called first thing in the morning.

As soon as the expectant face of his boss appeared on the screen, John glared at the comm screen. “Tomorrow,” he said, pre-empting her question as to why he was late for work. He wasn’t ready, couldn’t face the Department of Supernatural Enforcement today. Hadn’t been able to do it for months now, despite all the physical rehab and mandatory psych sessions. Of course, for the seventeen months before _that_ he’d been comatose in the hospital. And then he’d woken up to find his best friend and partner dead, and his girlfriend gone. So he really thought he was due a little slack.

“That’s what you said yesterday,” said Sandra. “And the day before that, and the day before that. It’s time, John.” Her voice was quiet but implacable. There would be no moving her this time.

“Ugh, fine,” John said, giving in gracelessly. He wasn’t ready, but honestly, he’d probably never be ready. Today was as good a day as any to force down the blinding panic whenever he thought of returning to the office, and the torrential grief whenever he thought of a dead partner and a missing girlfriend. Well, maybe he wouldn’t think about them just now. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

Sandra’s smile was gentle and not at all victorious as she said goodbye, which was the only thing that prevented John from throwing his coffee mug at the screen. 

Two hours later – he had to show Sandra he wouldn’t say how high just ‘cause she said jump – he arrived at the station. He swallowed harshly and forced himself to walk casually to the front desk where he signed himself in. He also forced himself to ignore the snide comments from Detective Paul about his reappearance that he could hear behind him. He’d always hated Paul, and it looked like he was going out of his way to poison some rookie against him. He would really love to pop Paul one, right in the eye, but it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to get in a fistfight his first day back.

When he entered Sandra’s office, she was all business as she stood to shake his hand, but he could see the softness in her eyes. He hated to admit it, but he was lucky that he had her for a boss. Even if she acted like a nagging older sister more than an actual boss. “Captain Maldonado,” he said, following her cue to keep it professional.

“Detective Kennex,” she responded. “It’s good to see you. After you get settled in, I’d like you to head downstairs and meet your new partner.” The sorrow in her expression said that she knew he still missed Pelham and that meeting his replacement wouldn’t be John’s favorite task.

“Downstairs? Why is my partner downstairs?” John said, rather than respond to that sympathy. He couldn’t afford to let his mind go down that path or he’d never get through this day.

“He’s getting something to eat from the blood packs in storage. Well, that and avoiding the sunlight up here,” Sandra said.

John stared at her in disbelief. “A _vampire_? You’re pairing me with a fucking _vampire_? After what happened with Martin?”

Sandra looked back at him calmly, not giving an inch. “He’s different than the others. He’ll be good for you, John.”

“No. Absolutely not. I want a human partner. A human partner was good enough for my dad and it’s good enough for me. And you _know_ how I feel about the soulless.”

“And _you_ know department policy is to pair one human with one supernatural,” Sandra shot back.

“I don’t give a shit,” he said, glaring at her.

She glared right back, not intimidated by him. He suppressed a reluctant snort of amusement. She never had been intimidated, by him or anyone else, as long as he’d ever known her.

“Do not fight me on this, John,” she warned. “I’m not going to war with you over DSE regulation. Dorian Christianson is your new partner, so get your ass downstairs and meet him.”

“ _Christian_ son,” he repeated. “Well, isn’t that ironic.”

“Don’t make me slap you upside the head on your first day back.”

She would, too. He knew when he was beaten. He grumbled under his breath but turned to follow her instructions.

“Welcome back!” she added cheerfully as he left. A middle finger was the only response he gave.

Downstairs, in the gloom of the department’s basement, John ambled over to the desk of the DSE’s resident lab geek. “Hey Rudy,” he said laconically.

Rudy’s head shot up. “Detective Kennex! I didn’t know you were coming back today!”

“Neither did I,” he said drily. “I think I’m supposed to meet my new partner down here. A goddamn vampire. Aren’t the soulless emotionally unstable? When did we start letting them on the force?”

“Excuse you,” said Rudy, offended. “That’s unfair and untrue. Some vampires, in the grip of bloodlust, can become violent, but people can become violent too.”

“Yeah, but vampires can do a hell of a lot more damage,” John returned.

“No more so than a human with a gun,” Rudy pointed out. 

“They lack basic human empathy.” It was a fucking vamp, after all, who’d left him and his partner for dead.

Rudy’s suddenly sympathetic gaze told him that he’d followed John’s train of thought. But he just said, “Dorian’s not like that. He’s a good guy.”

John grimaced but kept any further thoughts to himself, and headed off in the direction of the refrigerator unit where the blood packs were kept. It was next to the unit where the raw meat was kept for the werewolves, of whom there were a couple on the force, and next to that was the unit that stored the fertilizer solution for the dryad receptionist and the goblin fruit for the janitor, and so on and so forth. John sighed. He reached the fridge room and sure enough, there was a man standing with his back to John, gulping down the last of a bag of blood. John suppressed a shiver. 

Then the man turned around and John suppressed an entirely different kind of shiver. The guy was hot. There were no two ways about it. Dark skin, startling blue eyes, and pretty much perfect features. He told himself that it was just the glamour, the fascination that vampires always held for humans, part of their supernatural abilities, and one that made it easier for them to hunt and prey on their victims. But he was forced to admit to himself that it was unlikely Dorian would be using the glamour on him. It would be against department regulations. Well, and illegal. No, Dorian was just that gorgeous. God damn it.

He forced himself to ignore both the attraction and the bag of blood still in Dorian’s hand. “John Kennex. I guess you’re my new partner.”

Dorian’s face lit up and suddenly he looked – there was no other word for it – adorable. “Detective Kennex,” he said, in a voice that held… awe, almost. “I didn’t know you were going to be my new partner. I’m honored! Your record is amazing, and – “

John cut him off brusquely. “ _Was_ amazing,” he said flatly. “Your info is out of date,” he said.

Dorian looked a little puzzled, but undeterred. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, John,” he said, extending his hand. 

John ignored it and said, instead, “It’s Detective Kennex. So you’re one of the soulless.”

Dorian’s hand dropped and the enthusiasm on his face flickered and died. “I… don’t much like that term,” he said quietly.

John was aware that he was being offensive, but he didn’t much care. As far as he was concerned, vampires had no place in the department. How could they be trusted to enforce the laws that constrained their own kind, and how could they be counted upon to value human safety when they weren’t human themselves? When humans were just a food source to them, when all was said and done?

“Whatever,” he said. “I guess we’re on night shift.”

Dorian nodded, expression blank. “Yeah, man, I’d prefer not to burn up into a shower of dust.”

John shrugged. “I’ll see about getting a car assigned to us. Then find out what case we’re on.”

“I have the case assignment already,” Dorian said. “And I’ve already arranged for a car.”

John folded his arms, irrationally annoyed. He wanted out of here, the oppressive, chilly room with its fridge full of blood and the way-too-attractive vampire. 

“Well, when you’re done here, come back out to Rudy’s desk. You can tell me about the case,” he said shortly.

He stalked back out to Rudy’s area, enduring Rudy’s always awkward attempts to converse like a normal person. Rudy was a misfit, but then, John was too, and so he put up with the somewhat blundering attempts at small talk. Even if he mostly replied in monosyllables.

Moments later, Dorian came in and Rudy turned to him with warmth – and relief - in his voice. “Dorian, good to see you,” he said. “I see you’ve met Detective Kennex.”

Dorian smiled tightly and cut his eyes towards John. “Yes, we’ve met,” he said.

Rudy gave John a reproachful look, obviously sensing that it hadn’t gone well. John ignored it. “What case are we on?” he asked Dorian.

“Looks like a serial, targeting vampires. Three vics so far.”

John scoffed. “Soulless gang violence. Taking each other out, and good riddance,” he said.

Dorian closed his eyes briefly, obviously holding onto his temper with an effort, but when he opened his eyes up again, there was no trace of anger. “There’s that word again,” he said mildly. “And no, this is not inter-clan warfare. This is ritualistic torture and murder. Perp could be vamp, human, fae, anything really.”

“Human?” John asked. “How would a human overpower a vampire enough to ritually torture it?”

“Torture _her_. All of our vics are female. And vampires aren’t all-powerful, man, we have weaknesses.” John noticed, though, that he didn’t press the point about a human being the perp.

“Stop saying ‘man,’ nobody talks like that,” said John. “Anyway, any vampire is an ‘it,’ I don’t care what it used to be when it was human.” Now John was spouting shit that he didn’t even believe – obviously vampires had genders – but he didn’t want Dorian to think there was even the remotest possibility they might one day be friends, so he was going to go out of his way to antagonize him as much as possible.

Rudy looked up from something he was dissecting and glared at John. Dorian’s face didn’t change beyond the tightening of his jaw.

“I see,” Dorian said, voice carefully neutral. “Here’s the case file, _Detective Kennex,_ let me know what you want to do first once you’ve reviewed it.” He handed over a tablet and John flicked through crime scene photos, witness statements, and investigating officers’ notes.

The crimes were oddly bloodless – it seemed that the vampire victims had been starved for days before the perp had started carving into them, so there wasn’t much blood to leak out of the wounds. Still, the photos were disturbing. There wasn’t much to go on, though. The perp had been careful. There was no evidence of sexual assault in any of the cases, which was unusual. He had to admit, it was an interesting case.

Finally, John looked at Dorian and spoke. “Let’s start at the beginning. The first vic. Sometimes that one is personal, and the others are just replacements, randoms who meet the same profile, whatever the perp is looking for. Who were her friends? When did she go missing, and who reported her missing? What clan was she part of?”

“Sylvia Tillerson. Born 1959, so she was relatively young, for a vampire. She was part of the Bloodwine Clan, but didn’t have any close friends. No close ties at all, it seems. She was gone for a week before anyone thought to report her missing.”

“There’s got to be someone in her clan who knew something about her. We need to talk to them. Can you get us in?”

Dorian raised his eyebrows. “What, just because I’m a vampire I must know all vampires and all of them will cooperate with me?”

John shrugged. “Just asking. Can you get us in or not?”

Dorian sighed. “I can get us a meeting, but I can’t guarantee cooperation. Vampires don’t much trust the department.”

John snorted. “Tell me something I don’t know. All right, you set it up, then let’s roll.”

Dorian nodded, then pulled out his phone and stepped out of the room, already dialing a number.

Rudy regarded John. “Dorian’s a good guy, you know,” he said. “And vampires have feelings, same as we do, and you’re hurting his. You really need to get over your prejudice.”

“The soulless are _not_ the same as us,” John growled. “And neither are their feelings.” He couldn’t deal with a vampire partner, and he _definitely_ couldn’t deal with Rudy’s sanctimonious moralizing. He’d had enough. John stomped back up the stairs and into Sandra’s office. “Get me a different partner,” he said flatly. “Some other supernatural. I don’t like any of ‘em, but the soulless are the worst of the bunch.”

Sandra looked at him, a mix of compassion and amusement in her eyes. “No,” she said. “Dorian will be good for you. I’m not reassigning him.”

John let out a wordless noise of frustration, but he hadn’t really expected any different. Damn it. That was the second time she’d said that Dorian would be good for him, and he wondered exactly what she meant. He certainly wasn’t going to ask, though. He sank into the chair in front of Sandra’s desk. “Tell me about the case you assigned us. You know how I feel about vampires. I don’t give a shit if there are a few less soulless polluting the city. So why put me on that case?”

Sandra looked at him steadily, seeming to weigh something in her mind. “Because I suspect that Insyndicate is involved,” she said. John’s breath stuttered. Memories threatened to overwhelm him and he took a deep breath, suppressing them.

“Insyndicate? Why would you think that?”

“Because the ritual aspect is a little too perfect. And because each of the victims had ties with companies that are suspected Insyndicate fronts. But I don’t know for sure. I do know that I don’t want anyone else in the department to know of the link. You’re the only one I trust.”

“You think we have a leak.” It was more a statement than a question.

Sandra nodded in confirmation anyway. “Insyndicate knew about that raid somehow, John. The one where you were injured.” She didn’t say, _the one where Martin Pelham was killed_. She didn’t have to. “And no one outside this department knew. So the leak had to have come from in here.”

He let out a long, slow breath. He’d come to the same conclusion himself, but it was chilling, somehow, to hear it confirmed, and from his captain. She was smart as a whip and had the best cop’s instincts he’d ever seen, other than his own father’s. If she thought they had a leak, they did.

“You have any idea who it is?” he asked.

She shook her head slowly. “Suspicions, but that’s it. It wouldn’t be fair to mention any names without more than a vague feeling. But John, play this case close to the vest. Dorian joined the department after everything happened, so he couldn’t have been the leak. I have no reason to have any suspicion of him, but anyone else…”

She trailed off, and John nodded grimly. 

At that moment the glass door to Sandra’s office swung open, and a tall, slim woman entered the room. She was just as gorgeous as Dorian, though obviously in a different way. Jesus, had the department gone recruiting at a modeling agency while he’d been gone?

Sandra smiled at the woman. “Detective Stahl,” she said. “Let me introduce you to Detective John Kennex. He’ll be working the vampire serial case with Dorian. John, Detective Valerie Stahl is our behavior analyst and profiler, transferred from K division, and she’ll be assisting you, though she’ll be working on other cases as well.”

The woman – Detective Stahl – extended her hand to him, and he shook it. 

“Detective Kennex,” she said.

“Call me John,” he said in return. 

She smiled. “Then call me Valerie.” 

“Any thoughts on the case so far?”

“Unfortunately, not much of use. I’m sure you’ve already noticed, the vics don’t really fit a pattern other than being vampire and female. I’m still sifting through background info on their lives, and I’ll let you know if I turn anything up.”

He nodded and said goodbye. She gave him a dazzling smile and he nearly ran smack into the glass door of Sandra’s office. Sandra smirked at him, and even Valerie’s smile quirked in amusement. Great, way to make a first impression.

[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/98/cb/SAi2KBZg_o.jpg)

Two hours later, it was full dark and Dorian and John headed toward their assigned squad car. John pointedly went toward the driver’s side door leaving Dorian to get in the passenger side. Dorian sighed but said nothing.

Dorian directed John toward a bar in the seedier part of town. It was a vampire hangout, and humans were generally not welcome, officers from the DSE even less so. John found himself tensing as they pulled up in front.

Dorian smirked. “Don’t worry, Detective, I’ll protect you,” he said.

John rolled his eyes. “I’m not worried.”

“Sure you’re not. Your heart rate just skyrocketed.”

“You can tell my heart rate from there?” John asked incredulously, indicating Dorian in the passenger’s seat.

“Yeah, man, I can tell lots of things about you from here. When you last ate, the state of your nervous system arousal - “

Oh, hell no. John cut him off. “Don’t ever talk about my arousal level again. Don’t even think about it.”

Dorian was the one who rolled his eyes this time. “I didn’t say sexual arousal, though I can tell that too.”

“Dorian,” John gritted out, warning in his tone.

Dorian just sighed, as if John were an unreasonable child. “We’re wasting time. Let’s go,” he said.

John reluctantly followed Dorian to the doorway of the bar. When they stepped inside, he paused for a moment to let his eyes adjust.

The inside of the bar definitely did not match the outside. From the outside, it looked like a dive, a hole-in-the-wall that had definitely seen better days. But on the inside, well, it was _swanky_. Of course, it had that goth industrial look that vampires seemed to prefer, all concrete walls and pulsing lights, loud music and cocktail waitresses in slinky dresses. 

John elbowed his way to the bar, ignoring the pissed-off looks he was garnering, Dorian following in his wake. When he reached the bar, he leaned over and said, “I’ve got a meeting with the owner. Manager. Whatever.” The bartender either didn’t hear him or pretended not to, tapping his ear and shrugging. John rolled his eyes. Then he bellowed, at the top of his lungs, like something out of an old sci-fi movie, “TAKE ME TO YOUR LEADER.” 

The club seemed to fall silent in the wake of his pronouncement and John could practically feel Dorian facepalming behind him. He refused to be embarrassed. “Well?” he added.

The bartender gave him a look that said _You’re an idiot and I wish I could throw you out on your ass, _but reluctantly nodded and pointed to a shadowed nook near the back of the club, where, now that he was looking, John could just make out a doorway.__

__They went through the door and found themselves in a typical behind-the-scenes area of the bar. The kitchens for preparing various blood-based cocktails and washing the resulting dirty glasses were to their left, but directly ahead of them was an open door leading into what was obviously an office. Stepping inside, John found himself in front of a large mahogany desk behind which was seated a gorgeous woman who looked to be in her mid-30s, though of course if she was a vampire - which she obviously was - she could have been anywhere from 30 to 300._ _

__“Detective Kennex, I presume,” she said to John. “And Dorian Christianson,” she added, with a slight sneer in Dorian’s direction. Huh. Apparently he wasn’t popular with his own kind. “I’m Madeline Wu, the head of the Bloodwine clan in this region.”_ _

__“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” John said, shaking her hand as briefly as he could get away with. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.” He didn’t like vampires, but he had to suck it up and stay on her good side for the sake of the investigation, if he could manage it._ _

__“I’d like to know what you’re planning to do to bring this criminal to justice,” she said. “Obviously a serial killer targeting female vampires is of concern to my entire clan, and I’d like to know what your department is doing about it.”_ _

__Well, that was direct. And mildly hostile. Not unexpected, though. Although the Department of Supernatural Enforcement was tasked with solving crimes involving supernaturals as either perps or victims, the reality was that in far more cases than not, the perps turned out to be supernaturals, regardless of whether the victim was. Not because they were more violence-prone or anything - no, he had to admit that humans were just as violent - but because, generally, supernaturals had the advantage over humans in any kind of crime situation. They were smarter, or stronger, or had powers, or had some other way of coming out ahead of a human in a fight. Supernatural-on-supernatural and supernatural-on-human crime were pretty much equally common, human-on-supernatural crime pretty rare - or at least, successful human-on-supernatural crime, the kind that actually ended up being reported. Human-on-human crime wasn’t within the Department’s bailiwick; that went to the regular police department._ _

__Anyway, since most of the time the Department was investigating supernaturals as perps, most of the supernatural communities didn’t much like the Department, or trust its officers. John trotted out the standard response to the vamp’s question, not that he thought it was going to satisfy her. “The Department is treating this matter seriously, as it does every crime which it investigates. The more cooperation I have, the more likely we will be able to bring the perpetrator to justice.”_ _

__Her lips tightened but she didn’t say anything immediately. “What do you want to know?” she finally asked._ _

__“Tell me about Sylvia Tillerson. Where did she work, who did she hang out with, what did she do in her free time?”_ _

__“I’ve already answered these questions before, Detective,” she said. “Multiple times.”_ _

__John just gazed at her, and she looked steadily back at him. It looked to be developing into quite the staring contest until Dorian leaned forward and spoke a few words under his breath in a language that wasn’t English. John ground his teeth. He hated being deliberately excluded from the conversation, but if it would get results he’d overlook it. It took a moment longer, but then the vamp nodded and responded to John._ _

__“Sylvia was a bit of a loner,” she began. “She had a full-time job at a travel agency specializing in vampire-oriented vacation planning. She lived alone and fed on the animal/synthetic blood blends that we provide _gratis_ for clan members. She didn’t socialize much, though she had a few casual acquaintances within the clan. And I heard she'd signed up for some dating app,” Madeline added, rolling her eyes in apparent disdain._ _

__John immediately focused his attention on her last words. “A dating app? Did you tell the other investigators this?”_ _

__Madeline shrugged. “I don’t remember. I didn’t think it was important. As far as I know, she never actually met anyone from the site.”_ _

__“What was the app called?” John pressed._ _

__“I don’t have any idea. It was on her phone, which your people confiscated.”_ _

__John made a mental note to get Rudy to look at the phone to get whatever info he could._ _

__“All right,” he said. “Beyond that, is there anything you can tell me that might help out? Are there any rumors among the vamp community about who might be doing this, or why?”_ _

__“You’re assuming that the killer is a vamp as well, or at least another supernatural,” Madeline Wu stated. It wasn’t a question, and her voice definitely held open hostility now._ _

__John hedged. “We’re open to all possibilities, but how would a human be able to keep a vamp subdued and captive, or even be able to overpower it and kidnap it in the first place?”_ _

__“How do you know it’s only one human? A group of humans working together could bring down a vamp,” she said._ _

__This time it was Dorian who responded. He shook his head. “Serial killers almost always work alone,” he said. “Sometimes they correspond with one like-minded person, brag about their exploits. But they don’t play well with others. They definitely don’t work in cooperation with a team of other serials.”_ _

__Wu glared at Dorian, but backed down from her humans-must-be-guilty stance. “Well, there aren’t any rumors about who might be doing this, but most of us are sure it’s not another vamp. At least, not one of our clan. I keep fairly close tabs on my people. None of them would do something like this.”_ _

__John wasn’t so sure, but it would be pointless to say so. “All right, anything else you can think of that might help us?” he asked instead._ _

__She shook her head. “No, that’s it. And now, gentlemen, I am busy, so if that’s all…” she let the sentence hang._ _

__Again, it was Dorian who responded. “That’s all for now. Thank you again for agreeing to see us on such short notice.”_ _

__She inclined her head but said nothing. John turned to go. It wasn’t much, but at least there was _something_ new to go on. It might lead nowhere, but… it might not._ _

__As soon as they got back to the squad car, he turned to Dorian. “Tell Rudy about the dating app, see if he can find anything.”_ _

__Dorian already had his phone out, so the instruction was unnecessary. Dorian didn’t roll his eyes, but John could tell he wanted to. Instead, he responded, completely deadpan, “Yes, sir. Do you want me to get you some coffee too, sir?”_ _

__John didn’t crack a smile, but it was a close thing. And… unexpected. But he had to admit, he respected when someone wouldn’t take his shit. He liked it when someone sassed him back even better. Didn’t mean it was going to roll over and show his tummy for petting, though. “Yeah, that’d be great. Cream, two sugars,” was all he said. This time Dorian did roll his eyes._ _

[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/68/c3/AG9rJZHJ_o.jpg)

__Back at the station, John headed down to Rudy’s lair while Dorian went to the evidence lockup to get the phones of all the victims to check for the app._ _

__Rudy was apparently engrossed in viewing something – probably something disgusting – through a microscope. He held up a finger in warning not to interrupt him. Finally, after a few minutes he looked up and saw that John was alone. “Your first outing with your new partner, how did it go?” Rudy asked._ _

__“Fine,” John said shortly. “We won’t be braiding each other’s hair and whispering secrets at sleepover parties anytime soon, but I didn’t push him out of the moving car, so there’s that.”_ _

__Rudy nodded. “Give him a chance, John.”_ _

__He might have said more, but at that point Dorian jogged down the stairs, three clear plastic evidence bags with phones in them. He handed them to Rudy who donned latex gloves before opening the first bag. Rudy looked at them. “This may take a while. I’ll call you when I have anything to tell you,” he said pointedly._ _

__John knew a dismissal when he heard one. “Come on,” he said to Dorian. “Let’s go over the other two vics, see if we can find any new leads. They headed upstairs to the dugout and sat at adjacent work stations. “I’ll take Emily Whittaker and you look at Gabriella Cazares. See if you can find any threads to pull, anything that the previous investigators haven’t already covered. Once Rudy knows more about the app, we’ll probably want to go back and redo the interviews, but we ought to wait until then.”_ _

__Dorian nodded and opened a viewscreen on his workstation’s terminal._ _

__John watched Dorian thoughtfully for a moment, during which Dorian studiously pretended not to notice the scrutiny. Then he turned towards his own terminal and began his research._ _

__After a few minutes, he turned back to Dorian. “Hey, Dorian, what does your vic do for a living? Does she have a regular job?”_ _

__Dorian hit a few keys and frowned at his screen. “She wasn’t employed at the time of her death, but… Looks like she’d recently been let go. She worked at some sort of vampire vacation resort, as a concierge.”_ _

__“What, Club Med for the soulless? What will they think of next?”_ _

__Dorian’s mouth tightened but he otherwise didn’t react to John’s provocation. “Why do you ask?” he said instead._ _

__“Well, mine worked for a cruise line. And our first vic worked at a vamp travel agency, according to Madeline Wu. You seeing a pattern?”_ _

__“They all worked in the travel industry?” Dorian said dubiously. “Pretty thin connection, don’t you think?”_ _

__“Maybe, but it’s somewhere to start while we’re waiting on Rudy. Let’s start with the travel agency. If it caters to vamps it should be open now, right?” Dorian nodded. “All right, can you pull the address? Then we’ll roll.”_ _

__As they got back to the car John once again pointedly slid into the driver’s seat before Dorian could say anything about it. He headed toward the address Dorian had recited. Silence fell between them, awkward and uncomfortable. “So what’s your story, then?” John finally asked._ _

__Dorian turned to look at him. “What do you mean?”_ _

__“Well, I don’t know, if we’re supposed to be partners, I guess we should know something about each other. Like, when did you, y’know, get turned?”_ _

__Dorian eyed him. “In vamp culture, that’s considered an extremely rude question.”_ _

__John snorted. “And you think I’d care, why?”_ _

__Dorian sighed. He had a feeling Dorian would be doing a lot of sighing. Once again, John nearly smiled. Goading Dorian was almost… fun. Finally Dorian responded. “I was born a vamp,” he said._ _

__John snapped his head over to look at Dorian and nearly swerved off the road as a result. Once he’d gotten the car back under control, he spoke. “You were _born_ a vampire? How does that happen? I’ve never even heard of that before.”_ _

__“It’s rare,” Dorian said. “Only a small fraction of vampires are fertile. Something like .01% of the population. And then, of course, you have to have a fertile male and a fertile female to produce offspring. Most vampires who are fertile don’t even know they are. So vamp pregnancies are highly unusual, generally unplanned, often unwanted.” His voice was tight, controlled._ _

__Even John could sense that that was an emotional minefield to be avoided. So he kept his voice light. “Yeah, I could see how it would cramp a lady vamp’s style - hard to be out partying all night when you’ve got a baby bump.”_ _

__“Not all vampires party all the time, you know, man,” Dorian said, in that patient lecturing tone of his that John had already come to know. But his voice had lost its tight edge, so John counted it a win._ _

__“Whatever,” John said breezily. “Anyway, so okay, you were born. Does that make you a vampire outcast or something? Is that why Madeline Wu would barely look at you, much less speak to you?”_ _

__Dorian sighed, again. “Partly. Some born vamps have been… unstable. A couple have gone insane and had to be ‘destroyed.’ So I’m regarded with suspicion on that count. But even more than that, any vampire who chooses to join the DSE quickly becomes _persona non grata_.”_ _

__“Why did you, then?” John asked, curious despite himself. He found himself feeling an unwilling sympathy with Dorian. It sounded like he wasn’t really welcome in either world, human or vampire._ _

__Dorian shot him a sidelong look. “Thought you said we weren’t going to be braiding each other’s hair and sharing secrets,” he said._ _

__“Wait, you heard that?”_ _

__Dorian just tapped an ear. “Heightened senses.” John had known vamps had heightened senses, but he hadn’t known their ears were _that_ good. He’d been looking at the stairs down to Rudy’s lair when he’d said it, and not even Dorian’s feet had been visible at the top of the steps. Luckily, he didn’t much care if Dorian heard the things he’d been saying about him behind his back. _ _

__“Okay,” John acknowledged. “But why did you become a cop?”_ _

__“We’re here,” said Dorian, in that maddeningly calm tone of his. John couldn’t tell if he was avoiding the question or just being practical and getting them back on-track. As soon as John stopped the car Dorian was out and moving towards the doorway of the shabby-looking storefront. The display window was full of holo-posters featuring a variety of vacation destinations, all pictured in pale moonlight instead of the glowing sunlight usually shown in promotional travel photos aimed at humans._ _

__John hastily parked the car and followed Dorian through the glass door. Dorian was already flashing his badge at the bored-looking clerk behind the counter. “DSE. I’m Dorian Christianson and this is my partner John Kennex. We’re investigating the murder of Sylvia Tillerson. Did you know her?”_ _

__The clerk flicked a glance over both of them and seemed to dismiss them as unimpressive. “Yeah, she worked here. But I don’t see why I need to answer all these questions again,” he said in an unpleasant nasal whine. The clerk was human, not vampire, if John’s vamp-dar was any judge, and generally it was pretty accurate. Vampires didn’t sparkle, notwithstanding any teeny-bopper books on the subject, but there was something about them. They pinged a human as just a little _different_ , exotic, maybe; a little dangerous, definitely. Attractive, almost always, damn them. This kid was barely out of his teens, still with remnants of adolescent acne on his face. Vampires, of course, always had perfect skin._ _

__“What’s your name?” John asked._ _

__“Eric Angler,” he replied._ _

__“All right, Eric. How well did you know Sylvia?”_ _

__“We overlapped shifts sometimes, but that’s about it. She was nice, though. She’d actually talk to me, unlike most of the others who work here. They think they’re above me. Call me ‘O-neg’ and bare their fangs at me,” he sniffed. He was irritatingly petulant and John already didn’t like him. He stepped forward, ready to make that clear, but Dorian shot him a quelling look and he reluctantly subsided._ _

__“What did you two talk about?” Dorian asked._ _

__“Nothing much, mostly small talk. What we were going to do over the weekend, that kind of thing.”_ _

__“And what kind of things did she do over the weekend?” Dorian continued._ _

__“Nothing much, far as I could tell. Once in a while she’d talk about going out to a bar or something but usually she didn’t have plans, and we just talked about mine.”_ _

__“All right, did she ever mention meeting anyone at these bars that she occasionally went out to?” Dorian’s voice was calm and non-threatening and seemed to be putting the clerk at ease, so John let him keep the lead on the questioning. John’s preferred method of interviewing was yelling and intimidation, but he acknowledged, if only to himself, that his wasn’t the only effective method._ _

__“She didn’t mention any names, but a bit before she went missing, she said she was meeting someone for the first time. A blind date, or an internet date, or something.”_ _

__“What bar, did she tell you?”_ _

__“Um, let’s see if I can remember. It wasn’t anyplace I’d ever heard of. The Waxed Cat, I think she said?” His voice was dismissive, uninterested._ _

__John coughed into his hand so he wouldn’t snort or chuckle. It was a notorious lesbian pickup joint._ _

__Dorian just nodded and continued smoothly. “Did you talk to her after that weekend? Did she tell you anything about the date?”_ _

__The clerk’s face paled a little. “No. That was the last time I talked to her before she disappeared. I mean, I didn’t know anything had happened, she just didn’t show up to work a few days in a row, so the boss called her a walkout and terminated her. I never saw her again.”_ _

__“All right, Eric,” Dorian said. “Anything else you can think of that might help us?”_ _

__“No, just… I hope you find whoever did this. Sylvia didn’t deserve to die that way. No one does.”_ _

__John couldn’t argue with that, no matter what his issues with vamps were. They made their goodbyes and headed back to the squad car._ _

__“What do you think?” John asked Dorian. He was reluctantly impressed by Dorian’s handling of the witness. God knew he tended to put people’s backs up, even when he was trying not to, so it could be useful to have a partner who interacted better with the public than John did - not that that was a very high bar to clear. Hell, they were practically made for a good-cop-bad-cop scenario._ _

__“I think we need to check out that club. I saw you react to the name of it, I take it you know the place?”_ _

__“Um, yeah, it’s a fairly raunchy lesbian bar, known as the kind of place you can pick up someone for an hour or a night, no names necessary. Strange place to meet someone for the first time for a date.” He started up the car and eased out of the parking lot._ _

__“Hmm,” Dorian said consideringly. He seemed about to say more but then his phone pinged notification of an incoming call and he answered it. “I’m putting you on speaker, Rudy,” he said, and then tapped the button to do so._ _

__Rudy’s voice came through the line, only slightly distorted. “I found the app that your vic was using. It’s not so much a dating app as a hookup app. Useful for finding quick sex.” He paused briefly, then added, “Not that I’d _personally_ find it useful. Or need an app to find quick sex. And not that I prefer quick sex over any other kind.” He brought himself to a stop, finally. God, Rudy was awkward. _ _

__Dorian just ignored it, though. “All right, did you find the name or profile of anyone that she connected with? Anyone she agreed to meet?”_ _

__“Yeah, looks like she made a date for… The Waxed Cat? With someone called Buttermuffin19? What kind of a name is that?”_ _

__Dorian ignored the question just as he’d ignored Rudy’s verbal diarrhea. “Did any of the other vics have this app on their phones?”_ _

__Rudy sounded offended. “I don’t know yet, I only just cracked the first vic’s phone. It’s not easy, you know. I just figured you’d want to hear as soon as I knew this much.”_ _

__“Thanks, Rudy,” Dorian said. “Let us know when you have more.”_ _

__Before Dorian could end the call, John interjected. “Hey, Rudy, could you ask Valerie to check out the profile of this Buttermuffin person? If necessary, we can get a subpoena for the app maker’s records to get a real name.”_ _

__“Yes, I would be happy to ask _Detective Stahl_ to assist you,” Rudy said, putting emphasis on Stahl’s formal title. John ignored it. _ _

__“Thanks,” he said._ _

__Dorian hit the button to end the call and shot him a look that said he’d caught the implication of Rudy’s words. “ _Valerie_ already, huh?” he said. It sounded like he was probing, like he actually cared what the state of John’s familiarity with Stahl was. Weird._ _

__“Yeah, no,” John found himself responding to Dorian’s unasked question. “I mean, she’s pretty, but no.” Strangely, it was the truth. He supposed he’d had his fill of waiflike brunettes with soulful brown eyes._ _

__He took a turn that would point them towards the Waxed Cat. They arrived a few minutes later and garnered quite a few looks, ranging from curious to hostile, as they made their way in. Dorian pulled a photo of Sylvia up on his tablet and showed it around, but no one recognized it - or at least, no one admitted to recognizing it. Having struck out, they headed back to the station house._ _

__It was nearing the end of the shift, so John and Dorian each entered their case notes on their respective terminals. John gathered his things up and gave a brief nod to Dorian before driving back to his empty, echoing apartment just as dawn was breaking._ _

[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/f3/2d/yms0mgN8_o.jpg)

__Hours later, he jerked awake from dreams of Anna, sweaty and somehow feeling more exhausted than when he’d lain down. It was late morning. He was going to have to get his sleeping schedule shifted if he was going to be partnered with Dorian; he’d have to be working nights, obviously. But he could tell he wasn’t going to get any more sleep at the moment._ _

__For lack of anything better to do, he logged into the Department remotely and started throwing up a pinboard in the air, photos of each of the three vics surrounded by notes and comments. The three didn’t have much in common. Different clans, different ages and backgrounds, different physical types. The only common thread so far, other than their being female vampires, was their connection with the travel industry, and possibly with Insyndicate, unless the dating app thing panned out. He sighed in frustration._ _

__He toyed with the idea of going back to the Rememberist. He shouldn’t. He already knew that he was risking his sanity if he kept going back for sessions, letting a warlock mess with his head to try to jog his lost memories, the giant hole in his mind where the ambush that took his partner’s life should be. The Rememberist – well, he helped people remember. John didn’t know his real name, and he didn’t want to. He didn’t know exactly what kind of crazy voodoo he was undergoing each time the Rememberist laid hands on his head, and he didn’t want to know that either. All he knew is that sometimes, it gave him a flash, a millisecond of memory that hadn’t been there before._ _

__In the end, he went. It wasn’t like he had a whole lot else to do. And the not remembering, not knowing who had ended his partner’s life and nearly ended his own, was driving him slowly insane anyway._ _

__He had to strong-arm the man into doing another session, threatening to turn him in for unlawful practice of magic, and all he ended up with for his trouble was a bloody nose and memories of Anna smiling at him from across the pillow, back in the days when he’d had an intact mind and body, a partner and a girl and a future._ _

__He ran into another DSE officer on his beat as he climbed into his car down the block from the Rememberist’s building. He didn’t know the guy, who tried to hassle him and find out what he was doing in this part of town. Yeah, a lot of black market magic went on here. But John gave him a story about craving a bowl of noodles from a place nearby and the officer finally waved him on, albeit with a skeptical look. That had been a fairly close call. He had been lucky he hadn’t been seen exiting the Rememberist’s place. That would have been harder to explain._ _

__That night, heading into the station, he dumped his things at his desk and grumbled a quick hello to Dorian, who had stood when he’d seen John enter. He was about to walk around him, head down to Rudy’s sanctum, but Dorian stopped him with a hand on his arm. He looked pointedly at the hand until Dorian lifted it away._ _

__Dorian ignored John’s obvious irritation and spoke. “Hey, man, I already talked to Rudy. He said no dice on the other phones. No dating apps. So either they didn’t use them, or the app was deleted, so thoroughly he couldn’t recover it.”_ _

__“Well, shit. Back to square one,” John replied._ _

__“We’ve still got the travel angle. I think we need to work that harder now that we don’t have the app angle to work. I’ve got the address for the second vic’s workplace.”_ _

__John shrugged; it wasn’t like he had any better ideas. They settled into the squad car. John drove, studiously looking ahead. He could feel Dorian’s eyes on the side of his face but he didn’t meet them. Finally, though, the scrutiny got to him. “What?” he snapped._ _

__“You were in the Koln Avenue District earlier,” Dorian commented. “Lots of black market magic practitioners around there.”_ _

__“Yeah, and some good noodle joints too,” John replied, already annoyed. How the hell had Dorian known where he was?_ _

__“Only, the officer said you didn’t have any scent of a recent meal on your breath,” Dorian said._ _

__“What the hell, he could smell my breath from three feet away? And what, he _reported_ it to you?” Now John was seriously pissed._ _

__Dorian shrugged. “He’s a wolf shifter. Their sense of smell is insane. And he just wanted to know if he should be concerned.”_ _

__John’s only response was scowling silence and after a moment Dorian changed the subject. “St. Christopher,” he said, touching the small medallion that dangled from the rear view mirror. John had put it there that morning, on his way to the Rememberist’s, but now he wished he hadn’t. He didn’t want Dorian prying. Too late now. Dorian turned it around and inspected the delicate script “A” inscribed on the back._ _

__“A gift?” he asked._ _

__John shrugged._ _

__“From a girlfriend?”_ _

__John shrugged again._ _

__“You going to make me guess her name? Alice? Amy? Amelia? Audrey? Adeline? Um… Aquamarine?”_ _

__“Shut up,” John gritted out._ _

__“Sore spot, huh? What, did she dump you when you were in a coma?”_ _

__John was silent. Dorian looked at him, horrified. “Oh, shit, she _did_. That’s cold, man.”_ _

__“Anna,” he forced himself to say. “Her name was Anna. And I don’t know if she dumped me. When I woke up, she was just – gone.”_ _

__“I’m sorry,” Dorian said._ _

__The simple sincerity in his tone made John’s eyes prickle and he replied more harshly than he meant to. “What are you, Casper the Friendly Vampire?”_ _

__Dorian just regarded him with thoughtful blue eyes. Apparently he was starting to realize that John’s bark was worse than his bite. Damn it._ _

__“I may never have been human, but I feel just as much as you do. And I may never have been in love, but I can imagine how much that must’ve hurt.”_ _

__John took the – rather startling – volunteered information for the peace offering it was, and nodded, not saying anything more, not denying that vampires could even feel love, no matter how much he wanted to._ _

[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/98/cb/SAi2KBZg_o.jpg)

__They chased down leads for the next several nights, getting nowhere, John becoming more and more frustrated each time they went back to the station to report their progress – or lack thereof. Dorian wasn’t a bad partner, so far at least, but he insisted on doing everything exactly by the book, dotting all the i’s and crossing all the t’s. John was more a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants kind of cop._ _

__But it didn’t matter; they were getting nowhere, running in circles. It was all coming down on him – this case with no new developments, the relationship that had ended while he’d been unconscious, the partner who was dead leaving behind a grieving family and grieving friends, the year and a half gone from his life, and – oh, yeah – the big fucking hole in his memory. He slammed his hand down on his desk, causing Dorian, who was still entering case notes, to look at him warily._ _

__“Come on, man,” Dorian said to him. “I think you need something to eat, you haven’t eaten since our shift started. You like noodles, right? I know a good ramen place.”_ _

__“You only drink blood, how would you know if ramen was any good?” John made sure his skepticism showed._ _

__Dorian’s mouth nearly quirked up into an almost-smile, instead of tightening with annoyance. Yeah, he definitely had John’s number. “Okay, let me clarify: I know a ramen place that is generally considered by my human acquaintances to be excellent. I also know they’re vamp-friendly and I can get a glass of cow’s blood.”_ _

__“Ugh, forget I asked,” said John. But he was already grabbing his jacket and standing up. He looked back at Dorian, who was still sitting at his terminal. “Well, where’s this ramen place? Let’s roll.”_ _

__Dorian scrambled to his feet, seemingly surprised by John’s agreement to his plan._ _

__John didn’t want to enjoy his food, but he did. He really didn’t want to enjoy the company, but he did. He tried to convince himself that the glass Dorian was sipping from contained only tomato juice, and almost succeeded. He and Dorian chatted easily, talking about the case, about other cases they’d worked, about hazing they’d endured when they were still new on the force. They very carefully didn’t talk about their personal lives, but that was all to the good. He was already starting to get used to Dorian; if he wasn’t careful he’d end up _liking_ his partner, and look where that had gotten him last time. As he drove Dorian back to the station house, still well before dawn, he felt more relaxed than he could remember being since he woke up from his coma._ _

__Hours later, he was woken from a deep sleep by the blaring of his phone next to his ear, the ringtone indicating the call was coming from the station. Damn it, that meant it was probably a work emergency. He pressed the button to accept the call without even looking to see who it was. “Hello?” he said, sitting up and scrubbing a hand through his hair, noticing from the angle of light still slanting in through the windows that it was late afternoon._ _

__“John. It’s Sandra. We’ve got another vic. I’ll send you the address. You need to get your ass down there.”_ _

__“Wait, but Dorian – ” he wasn’t even sure how he was going to finish that sentence – obviously Dorian couldn’t be there to help him work the scene, it was still daylight out – but why the hell should he care? He should be relieved Dorian wouldn’t be there to irritate him and get in his way with his insistence on picture-perfect procedure._ _

__Sandra didn’t give him a chance to figure it out, though. “Dorian will meet you there once it’s dark. I’m sending Detectives Paul and Stahl to help you work the crime scene and interview any witnesses. It’s a recent kill, John; a fresher scene than any of the others have been. Much better chance of picking up a lead, but we’ve got to move fast.”_ _

__He got dressed quickly and was at the scene within twenty minutes – an abandoned warehouse near the docks. “What do we have?” he asked, approaching Stahl and deliberately ignoring Detective Paul, who returned the favor._ _

__“Gretchen Klein. Human vic, this time. But the M.O. is the same,” she said. “Oh, and by the way, I checked into your Buttermuffin19. The profile’s been deleted. We’ve subpoenaed the app maker’s records but the company is fighting it. May take a few days.”_ _

__He nodded, but he was focused on the first part of her statement. “Human vic? That’s odd. Serial killers don’t usually change their victim types, do they?”_ _

__“Not usually, no,” Stahl said. “But we don’t know for sure that vampire was part of the profile. Could be that there are other criteria that vampires happened to fit before and somehow this human did too. Or it could be that the killer did change his M.O. Possibly it was a crime of opportunity; the victim somehow fell into his lap, so to speak.”_ _

__“You’re saying ‘him;’ are you sure that the perp is male?” John asked._ _

__“Most serial killers are, especially serial killers of female victims,” Stahl said. “But there’s no way to be sure at this point. I’m using the pronoun as a probability, not a certainty,” she said with a smile._ _

__That smile was charming, quirky, and normally he’d have been stumbling over himself to try to get her to do it again, but this scene was too grim for that. Besides – for some reason, he kept thinking of Dorian, his expressive face and soft voice, and it killed any instinct he might have had to flirt with Stahl. Ugh, was Dorian’s professionalism rubbing off on him now?_ _

__He shook off these thoughts and turned to the crime scene. The victim was young, maybe early twenties. It never got any easier, seeing the crumpled form of a young person. So many hopes and dreams, so much potential, now still and lifeless. He crouched next to the body, pulling on a pair of latex gloves before gingerly touching the wounds carved into the woman’s body. There was practically no blood around the wounds, which was odd. He turned to the M.E., Phoebe Wexler, who was speaking with an assistant._ _

__“Hey, Wexler,” he said, drawing her attention. “What’s with the wounds? Were they made postmortem?”_ _

__She came to stand next to him and nodded. “The other victims’ wounds were premortem, but they were vampires and had been blood-starved, so the wounds were fairly clean. Obviously this vic is human, so starving her wouldn’t have made the wounds so bloodless. They were inflicted postmortem, as you said.”_ _

__“Even so, I would have expected _some_ bleeding at the wounds,” he pressed._ _

__Wexler shrugged. “It’s possible she was cleaned up after the cuts were made. And it’s possible that her blood was drained some other way – I’ll know more after the autopsy.”_ _

__John prowled the edges of the scene, avoiding the techs who were busily photographing, tagging, and fingerprinting anything that would hold still long enough. He doubted they’d get anything – the perp had never made that kind of mistake before. And this wasn’t where the murder had taken place; it was only a dumping ground. That matched the previous victims, as did the pattern of the cuts on the body. No discernible pattern, no words or symbols, but very precise, deliberate cuts, mostly on the torso. He had no doubt it was the same perpetrator, but he had a feeling that the switch from vampire victim to human was important._ _

__This crime felt off to John, somehow. Serial killers didn’t change their victim type like this. If the serial killings were actually Insyndicate covering up something, then Insyndicate was getting sloppy, trying to pass this killing off as part of the serial case. That meant that someone had gotten spooked. It meant that he and Dorian were getting somewhere. One of the threads they’d pulled had tugged a little too close to the heart of the matter._ _

__He stayed at the scene a little while longer, but there wasn’t much for him to do here. There were no witnesses, or at least no one had come forward and admitted to being anywhere near the scene. Patrol officers had been dispatched to inform the next of kin – Gretchen had apparently lived with her parents. That was another discrepancy. The other vics had had no close ties, no one who would notice if they went missing for a while, or much care._ _

__He left the warehouse, heading over to the station. He spent the time until dark combing through the other victims’ files, looking for any connection to Gretchen, at least based on the little they knew about her so far._ _

__When Dorian arrived at the station, John briefed him on what little he’d discovered so far. Together, they grimly began the task of digging into someone’s life to piece together what had led them to a gruesome, untimely death._ _

[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/68/c3/AG9rJZHJ_o.jpg)

__The next evening, he found himself jerking awake from yet another half-remembered dream, this time of the ambush that had killed Pelham. He vaguely remembered crouching next to his partner, seeing how much blood he was losing, calling for help. He remembered their goddamn vamp teammate taking one look at them and telling John that Martin was too far gone to be anything but sharkbait, and then he’d just left them behind. He remembered dragging Pelham toward the exit, and he remembered an explosion… and then he woke up. He was sweaty and shaking, and he only barely paused long enough to take a quick shower before dressing and driving to the Rememberist’s._ _

__The Rememberist wasn’t even seeing clients that day, but John banged on the door until the man reluctantly cracked it open, then he shoved his way in. “Again,” he said without preamble._ _

__“It’s too dangerous,” said the Rememberist, eyeing him warily. John sat in the treatment chair and refused to budge._ _

__They stared at each other for a long moment. John held out a credit chip and finally, reluctantly, the Rememberist took it. He walked behind the chair and then placed his fingers on John’s temples, and John’s mind went blessedly dark._ _

__The next thing he was aware of was chaos. There was shouting, and there was pain, and there was liquid – blood – flowing freely out of his nose and down his face. He looked around dazedly. He was at the Rememberist’s, and… Dorian was here. Why was Dorian here? And why was Dorian slamming the Rememberist against the wall? Then memory came crashing in. Not memories from today, but from… that day. He shook his head, almost in denial of what he’d remembered, and immediately regretted it. He gave an involuntary grunt of pain, and even though it was barely audible, Dorian instantly stopped what he was doing and turned around to look at John._ _

__Dorian released the Rememberist and came to kneel in front of John, looking into his eyes. He saw Dorian’s eyes flick to the mess of blood on the lower half of his face and watched his pupils dilate in response. It was only a split second, though, and then Dorian’s eyes were back on his, and Dorian was determinedly ignoring the blood that had to have been calling to him._ _

__“You with me, Detective?” Dorian asked. “Can you stand up? We’ve got to get out of here.” He helped John to his feet. They both ignored the Rememberist, who was still babbling an incoherent stream of profanities and protests as Dorian helped John stagger out of the room, into the darkness outside._ _

__Dorian hustled him around the corner and into a bar – the kind where no one would look twice at a bloody nose. Dorian ordered a scotch, neat, and put it into his hand. John gulped down the drink and hissed at the burn._ _

__After a moment, Dorian spoke. “What the hell were you doing, man? Do you even know how dangerous that was? You’re lucky you’re still in your right mind.”_ _

__John ignored this. “How the fuck did you find me?” he asked instead._ _

__“Locator chip. Captain Maldonado told me about it and asked me to keep an eye on you,” Dorian replied calmly, as matter-of-fact as if he were giving a weather report._ _

__“Sandra lo-jacked me? You _followed_ me?” John couldn’t quite work up the level of outrage he knew he should be feeling. He was too damn out of it, still dazed from what he’d seen. What he’d remembered._ _

__“Yeah, I followed you. You’re lucky I did. And you’re lucky you got ‘Casper the Friendly Vamp’ for a partner,” he added, mockingly repeating John’s earlier words back to him. Then his tone softened. “What did you see? When you were under?”_ _

__John closed his eyes. He didn’t want to say it, but he knew he had to. He kept his voice even with an effort. “It was Anna,” he said. “I saw Anna. She was there, the day I got ambushed. The day my partner was killed. She was holding the gun.” His voice nearly cracked at the end, but he got it out. Dorian’s eyes widened and then softened with sympathy, forcing John to look away.. . He couldn’t deal with pity. He got up and headed out to the car, Dorian catching up to him and then overtaking him to slide into the driver’s seat with a pointed look at John. John didn’t have the energy to object. Or to drive._ _

__Instead of taking him back to the station, Dorian drove him directly back home to John’s apartment. John nearly raised his eyebrows, but if Dorian had been directed to “keep an eye on him”, it stood to reason that Dorian knew where he lived. And anyway, John was in no shape to be seen at the station, even if their shift was due to begin soon. His clothes were stained with spatters of blood from his nose and he felt too shaky to walk but too wired to sit still. He fumbled with the key to his apartment, finally got the door open and waved Dorian inside, then stumbled in himself and sat heavily on his couch. He looked over the city skyline, visible from the huge windows in his loft apartment. The glittering lights stretched almost as far as the eye could see, and then there was the Wall and darkness beyond._ _

__Suddenly Dorian was pressing a mug of something hot into his hand. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been zoned out, staring out the window but not really seeing anything. God, Anna. He didn’t want to think about her. About her betrayal. No wonder she’d been gone when he’d emerged from his coma, all traces of her presence removed from his apartment. Fuck, she’d probably played him from day one. They’d met over a fender-bender of all things. She’d rear-ended him, at low speed in a parking lot, so no one was injured. Her insurance had covered it, of course, and she’d insisted on taking him out to dinner to make up for the inconvenience. Looking back, he could see how she had engineered the whole thing, and it made him feel sick, how easily he’d been duped. It was pathetic. _He_ was pathetic. He tasted bile in his throat and took a gulp of whatever was in the mug in his hand to force it down. _ _

__Coffee. Cream, two sugars, just how he liked it. Strange that Dorian would remember that comment, made in jest, about how he took his coffee. The thought, more than the coffee itself, eased his throat and somehow brought him out of his escalating spiral of self-recrimination and self-loathing. Dorian settled next to him on the couch and spoke quietly, nearly whispering into his ear. He started – why was Dorian so close, and why was he whispering so intimately? Then Dorian’s words penetrated. “I hate to bring this up,” Dorian was saying, “But maybe we should have this place swept for bugs. She could have planted something anytime she was here. Could still be active. And I’d rather she didn’t know she’s been made.”_ _

__Damn it, Dorian was right. In fact, she probably _had_ planted bugs. He and Pelham had met here to plan out some of the details of the Insyndicate raid. The one that had turned out to be an ambush. That was how they’d known about it. _He_ was Sandra’s leak. Shit, it was _his_ fault that Martin was dead. If he hadn’t trusted the wrong woman, if he hadn’t brought work home with him…_ _

__Dorian’s voice brought him out of his grim thoughts. “You look like hell. I don’t think you should go into the office right now, and you can’t stay here,” he said, his voice still a mere puff of breath against John’s ear. “Someone needs to keep an eye on you, in case there’s any after-effects from the Rememberist’s work.”_ _

__The sad thing was, he didn’t really have anywhere to go. He could impose himself on Sandra, he guessed. But she had a life and didn’t need to have to deal with him and his problems more than she was already forced to at the office. And of course Anna wasn’t an option, Pelham was dead, his father was dead… there really wasn’t anyone else. How had his life gotten so empty?_ _

__Dorian seemed to sense the bleakness of the thoughts spinning through his head, and stepped in in that easy, gentle way he had. “You can crash at my place tonight. I’ve got a fold-out couch.”_ _

__John didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want to get close to his new partner, to risk the pain of loss again. But if his place was bugged he also didn’t want to stay here. Even if he didn’t say or do anything that would be useful to Insyndicate, just the thought of their listening in to every sound he made made him feel ill. And he couldn’t deal with the thought of trying to find a hotel right now. So he shrugged and just said, “Fine,” not bothering to keep his voice quiet to match Dorian’s. He was aware he was being ungracious but couldn’t really work up any fucks to give._ _

__Dorian didn’t seem to take offense. “Go pack some things, enough to last a few days. I’ll meet you downstairs.” Then he stood up, leaving John feeling strangely bereft, alone on the couch. Dorian was pulling his phone out as he headed for the door, and John figured he was going to call Sandra, to alert her to the situation. He was dully relieved that he didn’t have to be the one to tell Sandra. Of course, he’d have to face her soon enough, and he’d have to read the knowledge on her face that it was his fault that Martin was dead. But not right now._ _

__Half an hour later, John was being ushered into Dorian’s basement apartment. For a set of rooms entirely underground, it was surprisingly warm, spacious and bright. Artificial light, of course, but it was a far cry from the dim, cobwebby, candle-lit and frigid rooms his imagination had always conjured up as a vampire’s lair. He dropped his bag and looked around dully._ _

__“Why don’t you go take a shower?” Dorian’s voice was calm, but John realized that he must be reeking of blood, and he was suddenly aware that he must be straining Dorian’s control. He shivered, and distantly thought that maybe, just possibly, he might be in shock._ _

__He headed through Dorian’s bedroom, surprisingly tidy – at least compared with John’s – tastefully completed with honey-colored wood furniture, including a king-sized bed made up with soft-looking dark gray flannel bedding, and went through to the master bath. It had a large slate-tiled shower, and he stripped off, letting his clothes fall to the floor and turning the water up as hot as he could stand._ _

__He felt a little more human after about half an hour under the hot water. He dried himself off with one of Dorian’s fluffy towels and then changed into sweats he’d thrown into his overnight bag. His dirty clothes he balled up and stuffed back into the bag; he’d have to ask Dorian about washing them. He wasn’t sure if the drying blood on his clothes would call to Dorian’s bloodlust, but he didn’t want to strain Dorian’s hospitality any further._ _

__When he emerged into the large living room, Dorian was sitting on the couch, an empty blood pack on the coffee table. As soon as Dorian saw him, though, he quickly rose from his seat, grabbed the blood pack and went into the kitchen to dispose of it. John felt vaguely guilty that Dorian felt the need to downplay his nature in front of John, but he couldn’t deny that he was also a bit relieved that he wouldn’t have to look at that clear plastic packet with its remnants of dark red._ _

__When Dorian returned, he held a mug and a package of Oreo cookies. “You need to eat something, get your blood sugar up,” he said, setting both items on the coffee table in front of John. John wondered who he kept the food around for, since Dorian himself couldn’t eat it, but he didn’t want to ask. The coffee was again the way he liked it, and he dunked his Oreos and forced a few down. Finally he felt ready to speak._ _

__“I hate to raise this, but you’re sure your place is clean? No unwanted listeners?” he asked, waving a hand vaguely around._ _

__“Yeah, no one else has been here since I moved in,” Dorian said._ _

__“Wait, no one?” John had figured out that Dorian was a bit of a loner, stuck between two worlds, but he hadn’t expected this level of isolation._ _

__“Yeah, man, no one,” Dorian said. He made a face. “Well, Rudy offered to come over for a ‘guys’ night in,’ but…”_ _

__John snorted. “Yeah, he’s tried to invite himself over to my place too,” he said._ _

__“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” Dorian replied. “I have no problem with Rudy. We sometimes play chess on our lunch break. But having him here…” he trailed off._ _

__“Yeah, he’d probably move in and never leave,” John said._ _

__“He does seem to have… boundary issues,” Dorian said tactfully. “And… I think I heard him say something about mud masks.” He quirked an eyebrow and John found himself nearly smiling._ _

__“Well if no one’s ever been here, why do you keep coffee and cookies?” Okay, he’d told himself he didn’t want to ask, but he’d lied._ _

__Dorian actually looked a little embarrassed, but he kept his voice light, almost self-mocking. “I figured someday, someone besides Rudy might actually want to hang out with me.”_ _

__John winced. Okay, crap, Dorian’s life was maybe even sadder than his own. Now he felt sorry for the guy. That was almost as bad as liking him. Damn it. He decided to change the subject in self-defense._ _

__“I suppose I should… acknowledge the fact that you saved my ass, back there. At the Rememberist’s.” He could hear the grudging note in his own voice and he almost cringed._ _

__“No need, Detective Kennex,” Dorian responded coolly, obviously hearing it too._ _

__A beat passed and then John sighed. He’d deserved that. “John,” he said firmly._ _

__Dorian’s blue eyes warmed just a fraction and he nodded. “John,” he repeated._ _

__“What do you know about Insyndicate?” John deliberately asked the question out of left field, keeping his eyes carefully trained on Dorian’s face, looking for any tells or untoward reactions. Dorian’s perfect eyebrows rose, but that was it. No sign of guilty knowledge. If he was an actor, he was an excellent one._ _

__“Insyndicate?” Dorian asked. “Just what everybody knows. International crime organization, suspected of pretty much every illegal activity there is, plus a bunch of legal ones. Gambling, prostitution, drugs, illegal tech implants, black market magic, you name it. Thought to run dozens of corporations as fronts or money laundering operations. Why do you ask?”_ _

__John took a deep breath. He couldn’t believe he was about to do this, about to confide in Dorian, especially after finding out how badly he’d been betrayed by Anna. But Sandra had said that Dorian was in the clear. And besides – his gut said he could trust Dorian. Now that he really thought about it, his gut hadn’t been nearly so sanguine about Anna. He’d put down the churning emotions about her to butterflies, to the heady ups and downs of love, but, looking back, his intuition had been trying to warn him about her._ _

__He was going to have to take a leap of faith here, but somehow it wasn’t as difficult as it might have been. Dorian wouldn’t betray him. He didn’t know how he knew, but he did. So he forged ahead. “Insyndicate was behind the ambush that killed my former partner Martin Pelham, and now I know that Anna was involved in the ambush up to her eyeballs. So Anna must be Insyndicate. And Sandra thinks Insyndicate is behind the killings on our current case.”_ _

__Dorian blinked slowly, but otherwise didn’t outwardly react right away. He was silent for a few moments, although John could practically hear the gears spinning. “Did she say why she thinks that?” he asked finally. “What would be Insyndicate’s motivation for faking a serial?”_ _

__“She said that the serial aspect seemed a little too perfect for her. And each of the vics had ties to an Insyndicate front company. So maybe they were cleaning house, getting rid of people for some reason and trying to make it look like a serial to divert attention from the Insyndicate connection. I’m not sure yet, I’m still trying to put the pieces together. There’s not much to go on.”_ _

__Dorian nodded thoughtfully. “Could be. Any reason neither of you told me this earlier?”_ _

__John shrugged. “Sandra thought we had a leak. She didn’t think it was you - I mean obviously you weren’t here when Pelham was killed, so that leak couldn’t have been you, but she wasn’t sure who she could trust besides me.” He gave a bitter chuckle. “Turns out I was the leak after all. Guess she shouldn’t have trusted me.”_ _

__Suddenly he was exhausted. Between the physical trauma of the Rememberist’s work and the emotional trauma of what he’d remembered, he had nothing left. He leaned his head back against the top of the couch and closed his eyes._ _

__“Why don’t you catch some sleep, man?” Dorian asked. John couldn’t even work up the energy to respond and in a moment, he felt his shoes being tugged off, before his legs were moved up onto the couch and his head down onto a pillow. Then a soft blanket was draped over him and awareness faded entirely._ _

[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/f3/2d/yms0mgN8_o.jpg)

__He woke to the sound of quiet voices nearby. Not in the same room, but maybe in the next room over. He blinked and took stock. He was on Dorian’s couch. He had no idea of how much time had passed, but he felt significantly better for the rest. Focusing on the voices, he could make out Dorian’s… and Sandra’s. He relaxed – she always made him feel better. Then he tensed again. Except this time he’d have to tell her how badly he’d screwed up, with Anna._ _

__He heaved himself up and followed the sound of the voices into the kitchen. Sandra and Dorian immediately stopped talking and both gave him a scrutinizing look, obviously checking on his mental state. He rolled his eyes. “I’m fine,” he said._ _

__Dorian’s face remained blank, but Sandra gave him a quirk of her brow that said he wasn’t fooling her; however, she didn’t pursue it. Instead, she cut straight to the heart of it. “Dorian’s been telling me about Anna. About what you remembered. I’m sorry, John. It wasn’t your fault, though. Pelham’s death isn’t your fault. The only ones to blame are Insyndicate.”_ _

__John shook his head. He appreciated the absolution, and that Sandra had raised it so he didn’t have to, but he wasn’t ready to absolve himself completely. He didn’t respond directly, not wanting to discuss it._ _

__“What about my apartment? Are you going to have it swept?”_ _

__Dorian spoke up. “I asked the Captain to come here instead of talking on the phone because I don’t know if we can trust the phone lines. And I figured we wouldn’t want Insyndicate to know that we suspect about the bugs. So if we leave them be, we can feed them misinformation.”_ _

__John made a face. He didn’t like it, would hate knowing that his every word and sound were being monitored, but he had to admit it made sense._ _

__“I’m going to give you a bug detector,” Sandra said to John. “A sensor that you’ll hide in your pocket. It’ll vibrate if there’s a monitoring device nearby, audio or visual. You’ll stroll around your apartment to see if there are bugs or cams and whereabouts they are. But we won’t remove them. We’ll use them.”_ _

__John nodded._ _

__“I’ve got to get back to the office,” Sandra said, picking up her bag and standing. “I’ll have the bug detector ready for you when you get in.”_ _

__After Sandra left, Dorian turned to John. “Wow, I feel so popular,” he said. “Two guests in one day.”_ _

__“Yeah, I’ll nominate you for Homecoming King at the DSE prom,” John said sarcastically._ _

__Dorian’s mouth quirked in an almost-smile. “So what’s our next move?”_ _

__“I have a hunch that Anna’s involved in this. I think we need to go back to the Waxed Cat and to the travel agency, see if anyone recognizes her. Go back to the contacts for the other vics and do the same thing. And see if we can connect her to Gretchen.”_ _

__“You got a photo of her handy on your tablet or your phone?”_ _

__John snorted in self-deprecation. “Yeah, one or two,” he said drily._ _

__John got changed out of his sweats and into clean street clothes, and then he and Dorian climbed the steps up to the street level. It was the darkest, quietest part of night, when most of the partiers were already done, crashed out somewhere, but the bakeries, coffee shops and other early morning businesses hadn’t started up yet. It was slightly eerie._ _

__They drove to the Waxed Cat first, hoping to get there before it closed. There weren’t many people left there, but when they showed the photo of Anna to the bartender, who was wearily clearing up empties, she nodded. “Yeah, I’ve seen her around a few times. She usually doesn’t stay long, either meets up with someone or picks up someone and then leaves. And I haven’t seen her recently.”_ _

__Dorian produced, once again, the photo of Sylvia Tillerson. “You ever see her in company of this woman?”_ _

__The bartender squinted, then shrugged. “Could be. I don’t really keep track of who’s hanging out with who. She looks vaguely familiar, though.”_ _

__“How about her? Or her?” John tried with photos of the other victims, but got no recognition._ _

__They left and headed to the travel agency. They caught Eric Angler just as he was leaving, in the parking lot, unlocking his car. A brand-new, extremely expensive Tesla. Dorian and John shared a look._ _

__“Hey, nice wheels, man,” Dorian said, approaching Eric._ _

__Eric looked at them nervously. “Oh, uh, thanks,” he said._ _

__“Pretty pricey ride for a clerk’s salary,” John remarked._ _

__Now the kid was definitely nervous. “Oh, yeah, I um, inherited some money from my dad.”_ _

__“That so?” John asked, smiling his best shark-like smile. There was definitely blood in the water. “And when did you purchase this fine automobile?”_ _

__“Last week,” said Eric._ _

__Dorian looked up from where he was punching something into his tablet. “Eric, it says here your parents are alive and well and living in Des Moines.”_ _

__Eric gulped. “Well, now, I think you’re going to have to come with us to the station,” John said. “Lying to cops, impeding an ongoing investigation?” He was bluffing – it wasn’t illegal to lie about your car, and he couldn’t tie that to the investigation – yet. But he was betting the kid wouldn’t know to split that particular hair._ _

__Dorian stepped into his good-cop role as if they’d practiced it a thousand times. “Aw, John, we don’t want to make him do that,” he said. “Maybe he’ll answer some questions here.”_ _

__Eric nodded frantically. “Yeah, sure, here’s good. I’ll cooperate.”_ _

__John pretended to consider. “Well, there is an awful lot of paperwork if we take him in…”_ _

__Dorian chimed in. “Yeah, exactly. I’m sure Eric here will be eager to save us the extra work.”_ _

__“Fine,” John growled. He kept his scary face on but honestly, it was an effort. It had been so long since he’d actually enjoyed police work. He’d forgotten how it could feel when he was in the moment, in the flow with a partner. There was nothing like it on earth._ _

__“So, Eric,” Dorian said, taking the lead. “Is there anything you want to tell us? Like how you got the money for this car, and how it connects to Sylvia’s death?”_ _

__“I had nothing to do with her murder,” Eric insisted, sounding slightly panicked now. “I swear.”_ _

__“I believe you, Eric,” Dorian said soothingly. “Just tell us what you know.”_ _

__“Okay, okay. Look, this can’t come back to me, all right?”_ _

__Dorian made an encouraging noise but John noted approvingly that he made no promises._ _

__“All right. Sylvia uncovered something. Some kind of illegal activity. Illegal blood trade of some kind. She mentioned it to me, and then next thing I knew she was gone. Last week, my boss asked me if I’d heard anything. He said he’d be more than happy to… compensate me for my silence if so. So I took the money. I didn’t want to end up like Sylvia! That’s all, I swear.”_ _

__“What’s your boss’s name?”_ _

__“Alvin. His name is Alvin. Alvin Lloyd. And now, I really need to get going. I don’t know anything else.”_ _

__“Fine, just don’t leave town.” John waved him off and turned to Dorian, eyebrows raised. Dorian was nodding thoughtfully. Then, suddenly, Dorian’s face was changing, and John saw Dorian diving toward him, almost like he was going to attack John, but before he could react or even figure out what was going on, there was an enormous explosion behind him followed by a wave of intense heat._ _

__John hit the ground hard. He could feel Dorian’s weight on top of him, and he could still feel the heat radiating from behind him, but he couldn’t hear anything at all, and all he could see was the pavement in front of his face, now littered with debris from what used to be Eric’s new car… and Eric himself. John swallowed hard, shook his head once. It didn’t help. He still felt dazed._ _

__His vision blurred and his memory wavered, and he couldn’t remember exactly where he was. He was down on the ground, lying underneath someone. Pelham must be on top of him. God, Martin felt like dead weight, he must be hurt. With an effort, every part of his body screaming in agony, John rolled out from under his partner and propped himself up on his elbows. His legs didn’t want to move. He looked next to him. Oh shit, there was blood everywhere. Was it his? Was it Pelham’s? He blinked to clear his vision and oh fuck, no, it wasn’t Pelham. It was Dorian. Memory flooded back in. Pelham was dead. Maybe Dorian was dead too, now. Hell, maybe John himself was dead, or soon would be. Maybe he ought to just lay down again and wait for it to end._ _

__But no, if there was any chance that Dorian had survived, he had to help him. Dorian was lying still, blood oozing sluggishly from dozens of shrapnel wounds in his back and legs. John tried to remember what he knew about vampires from the department’s mandatory multi-species first aid classes. Their healing abilities were better than humans’, he thought, but he didn’t know how good. And how did you treat a vampire’s wounds? He’d pretty much tuned out during this part of the training. Frankly, he hadn’t ever cared to know how to help a vampire. All he knew was that a vampire needed blood, especially when weak or injured, and his mind fixated on the thought. If he could call for help, someone could bring blood bags for Dorian._ _

__He fumbled for the phone in his hip pocket, but when he pulled it free, it was smashed beyond recognition. The squad car was only across the parking lot but it and its radio seemed impossibly far away. Slowly, he pulled himself mostly into a sitting position. His own legs were cut to shreds along with his jeans, but he couldn’t deal with that now._ _

__He pushed on Dorian’s shoulder under he got him turned around, face up on the pavement. This side of him wasn’t as injured but Dorian was still out cold. Slaps to his face produced no response, but caused Dorian’s mouth to open slightly, and John could see that his fangs were extended. He’d never seen Dorian’s fangs out before. The sight didn’t bother him as much as he’d thought it would. On the other hand, hee had bigger worries at the moment._ _

__John was slightly dizzy and he knew this wasn’t the best idea, he’d lost blood himself, he shouldn’t be giving it away, but he couldn’t just lie here and let his partner die. Or die more. Or whatever they called it when a vampire ceased to be. He shook his head again. He was having trouble focusing. He brought his arm up to Dorian’s mouth and pushed the wrist underneath Dorian’s fangs. Nothing happened. Fuck, how did he get Dorian to start drinking?_ _

__Maybe he needed to get the blood started, help him out. It wasn’t like John wasn’t already wounded in plenty of places anyway, so he turned his arm over, found a spot on his forearm that had a fairly deep gash, held it over Dorian’s slack mouth, and then squeezed his arm. He gasped, but the movement had pushed out a thin trickle of blood that fell into Dorian’s mouth. He put that part of his forearm under Dorian’s fangs and then gasped once more as suddenly Dorian’s mouth closed, his fangs sinking deep into John’s flesh._ _

__It was an odd sensation, but not painful, John thought remotely. Then again, he was hurting in so many places he probably wouldn’t notice one more injury anyway. There was a strong sensation of suction as the blood was drawn from the wound, and now spots were dancing in his vision. He vaguely heard the wailing of sirens coming closer, which was good, because it meant that someone had called for help, and it meant that his eardrums weren’t busted – and then everything went dark._ _

__He came to in the ambulance, when a hard jolt over a pothole jounced his body. His eyes flew open and he struggled to speak with an oxygen mask on his face. “Dorian,” he tried to say. “Where’s Dorian?”_ _

__Apparently the EMT was adept at deciphering oxygen-mask-muffled words, because he responded. “What, that soulless piece of shit smeared next to you on the pavement? He’s on his way to the vamp hospital, and good riddance. No idea if he’ll make it or not.”_ _

__The EMT must not have realized that they were cops or he’d have spoken with more respect about Dorian, vampire or not. Even so, the words were harsh, not to mention terrifying, and John wanted to smash his smug face in. He fully realized the hypocrisy of the urge; only a few days earlier he’d have spoken in exactly the same way. But not now. Not about Dorian._ _

__He didn’t have the strength to punch the guy, so he just snarled. The EMT rolled his eyes in return and muttered under his breath, “Fucking vamp lover.”_ _

__John had been about to tell him that they were cops and that Dorian was his partner so he should speak with a little damn respect, but those last words quelled the urge. Fuck him. He shouldn’t respect Dorian because he was a cop, or because he was John’s partner, but because he was _Dorian_. Worthy of respect in his own right. So he just spat back “Asshole,” and then succumbed to unconsciousness again._ _

[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/98/cb/SAi2KBZg_o.jpg)

__When he came to, he was immediately overwhelmed with déjà vu. He was in a hospital bed, aching all over, alone. Just like when Martin died. No, wait, he wasn’t alone – Dorian was in a chair in the corner, doing something on his tablet. John must’ve made a noise because Dorian looked up sharply, a wide smile spreading across his face when he saw John awake. Dorian looked fine - a few small bandages but otherwise no visible injuries. Well, that was good at least._ _

__“Well, hey there, Sleeping Beauty,” Dorian said._ _

__“Crap, does that make _you_ Prince Charming?” John grumped, but Dorian’s smile just widened, and something in John’s heart lightened. Well shit, he’d just made them a couple, even if fictionally. And Dorian had smiled. He couldn’t deal with the implications of that right now and so he shoved it aside. “How long have I been out?”_ _

__“About 48 hours,” Dorian said._ _

__Not as bad as it could’ve been, then. John took stock of himself physically – banged up to hell and gone, lots of bruises and cuts, but no major injuries from what he could tell. He turned to Dorian to confirm the diagnosis, but Dorian looked uncharacteristically hesitant, and it instantly put John on alert. “What? What is it? What’s wrong? Spit it out,” he said._ _

__“What? Nothing’s wrong,” he said. “It’s just… you saved me. You _fed_ me.” The words were hesitant: almost, but not quite, a question. _ _

__Oh yeah, John had forgotten that. It was so strange, so distant, like it had happened in a dream. But it hadn’t been a dream. “Yeah, well, no biggie,” he said in the awkward silence. “Anyway, you saved me by flattening me just before the blast. You’re heavier than you look,” he added after a moment, trying to lighten the moment. “What are you, packing bricks in your pockets or something?”_ _

__Dorian ignored this. “Just, thank you. That can’t have been easy for you, with how you feel about vampires. I appreciate it.” The sincerity was clear in his eyes and now John was really uncomfortable._ _

__“Don’t mention it,” he said, meaning it literally. From the twinkle in Dorian’s eyes he knew the message had been received but it was, once again, ignored._ _

__“Hey, man, I’m having a moment here,” Dorian said instead. “Partner bonding! Brothers in arms! Come on, man, this is deep stuff!”_ _

__“Oh, shut up,” John grumbled, and Dorian laughed outright._ _

__“Anyway, the doc says you’re going to be fine, and I can probably spring you from this place, but you’re gonna have to stay at mine.”_ _

__Oh yeah, John had almost forgotten the whole bugging fiasco. “Did you get my place checked for bugs?”_ _

__“Yeah,” Dorian said. “There _was_ a bug, but it was inactive. Had been shut down remotely, so there was no signal to follow back to the source. It was in a… matryoshka doll?” There was a faint note of curiosity in his voice._ _

__John grimaced. “A gift, from Anna. A souvenir from one of her ‘business trips,’” he said. Then a thought struck him. He tried to sit up only to groan and sink back into the pillows. “Shit. Did you check the squad car? That goddamn St. Christopher medallion she gave me?”_ _

__Dorian stilled. “No,” he said slowly. “I didn’t think of that. I’ll have it checked out now. Good thinking.”_ _

__It was cold comfort, given that he was the one who’d let Anna infiltrate and get information on the DSE’s activities, but he appreciated the effort._ _

__A scant few hours later, he was painfully levering himself out of the squad car – which was sans medallion, it having been given to Rudy to check for bugs – in front of Dorian’s building. Dorian helped him hobble down the stairs and into the apartment. When they got to the couch, John slowed, expecting to be deposited there, but Dorian just kept him walking, all the way into the bedroom and next to the bed._ _

__John quirked an eyebrow. “If you wanted me in your bed you could’ve asked, you didn’t have to get me blown up as an excuse,” he smirked. He only realized after the words were out how flirtatious they sounded. Shit, he wasn’t attracted to his partner, was he? No, of course not. He was just joking around._ _

__Dorian just smiled, not giving any indication of whether he took it as flirting or not. “You’re injured, man. You take the bed, I’ll take the couch,” he replied._ _

__For a moment John was almost… disappointed. The bed was big enough to share, surely? Then he shook it off. “I’m not going to put you out of your bed,” he said. “The couch will be fine for me.” It was a token protest and he didn’t push it when Dorian just shook his head and pulled back the covers for him. He sat down on the soft mattress, kicked his shoes off and gingerly lowered himself to a prone position. Damn, that was better. He hadn’t quite realized how much pain he’d been in from being upright until he’d lain down._ _

__To his surprise, Dorian didn’t immediately leave the room. Instead, he perched on the edge of the bed. Then he spoke. “So, I’ve been doing some work on the case while you were out. And… your Anna is connected to each of the victims of the ‘serial killer’. The dating app for one, a new gym friend for another.”_ _

__“She’s not _my_ Anna,” John growled. Then he sighed. “But yeah, that doesn’t surprise me. Are you saying she’s the killer?”_ _

__“I doubt it, at least not alone. She doesn’t have the physical strength. But she’s part of it. She got to know each victim. She lured each one into a trap.”_ _

__“Yeah, she’s good at that,” John said bitterly._ _

__“We’re getting close, John,” Dorian said. “The serial that didn’t fit the profile, and now the car bomb – they’re getting desperate, making sloppy mistakes, hurrying to cover their tracks.”_ _

__“Yes, but what are they covering up? Something involving illegal blood trade, according to Eric, but what?”_ _

__“I’ve got a theory,” Dorian said. “One of the things that we dug up about Gretchen, the human victim, is that she volunteered with a nonprofit that brings food and medicine to people beyond the Wall. She had access to go out there, see what was going on.”_ _

__“Okay, and…?” It was obvious Dorian was going somewhere with this._ _

__“And, over the past two weeks she made several complaints to the local police precinct about missing persons cases. Children and teenagers from over the Wall who had gone missing without a trace. Of course, the Department didn’t investigate. No one investigates what happens over the Wall. But someone learned that she was starting to make noise about it. I think that’s why she was killed.”_ _

__“So you think the missing persons cases have something to do with the illegal blood trade?”_ _

__“John, I think the missing persons _are_ the illegal blood trade. To a vampire, human blood tastes far better than animal blood. And blood from a living human source is far better than bagged human blood. It’s like… Haagen Dazs compared to non-fat frozen yogurt. And… young victims are the best of all. The younger the better.”_ _

__John fought against the urge to retch. He looked at Dorian. Dorian met his eyes unflinchingly. It couldn’t have been easy for him to admit this, to invoke John’s disgust and to break the vampire taboo against talking to outsiders, but he was doing it. John had to admire it, even through his revulsion at what he was hearing. “God, trafficking in kids for their blood. You’re sure about this?”_ _

__“Not completely, but I also talked to the M.E. There were puncture wounds on Gretchen’s body. Almost completely eradicated by the cuts, but the edges of a couple of the punctures were still detectable, and under magnification, they look like vampire toothmarks. While she was in captivity her blood was being slowly drained. I think they used Gretchen herself as a living meal before they killed her.”_ _

__“So, if that’s true, where do the other victims fit in?”_ _

__“I think you were onto something with the travel industry angle. In order to smuggle the living victims, you’d need connections in airlines, in cruise ships, people willing to look the other way and not inspect the ‘cargo’ too closely. I think that’s the angle,” explained Dorian. “Controlled transport.”_ _

__“So why kill everyone involved?” John asked, not yet willing to accept that something so heinous could have been carried out so blatantly._ _

__“Someone started talking, or threatened to. The whole operation was at risk, so they decided to clean house. I’m betting it’s too profitable to shut it down, though – they’ll just start up again with new players, not connected to the old ones. We’ll have to be ready when they do.”_ _

__“Or we move now, before they shut down the current operation completely and start all over again.”_ _

__“True, we could, because they’ve had to move quickly, before they were ready. I think we could use that to our advantage. Lay a trap.”_ _

__“How?”_ _

__“Dangle some bait. Easy supply. I think we should leak false information via the bugs in your apartment and in the car. Pretend we’ve got a line on an illegal immigration operation that’s smuggling in families from over the Wall.”_ _

__“We can’t make it too easy, though. Insyndicate already knows we’re investigating--that bomb was not an accident. I need to make some calls if this is going to work, make it look unrelated.” He moved as if to get up._ _

__“Hold up there,” said Dorian, raising a hand. “You’re injured. I think you need to sit this one out. I’ll handle it with Captain Maldonado.”_ _

__“Yeah, not happening,” John said. “I’m going to be there. I’m not letting you do this alone.” He kept steady eye contact with Dorian, letting him see John’s determination. Dorian slowly nodded._ _

__“All right, but you’re backup on this one. Not front line. You stay out of it unless you’re absolutely needed.”_ _

__“Yeah, backup,” John parroted. _Like hell_ , he thought. Dorian had just transferred in but for him, this was personal._ _

[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/68/c3/AG9rJZHJ_o.jpg)

__By the next evening, John was raring to go, despite his bruises and cuts. The adrenaline coursing through his veins had made the steady ache fade into a mere nuisance and anyway, he was surprisingly well rested, the dark and quiet of Dorian’s bedroom oddly soothing. Not that he’d admit such a thing._ _

__Detective Paul was posing as the smuggler, which chafed John but he and Dorian had to have been seen investigating the case so neither of them could do it. Besides, Paul was an asshole – he’d be a natural fit as a human smuggler._ _

__They were set up at a shadowed spot at the foot of the Wall – they’d had this area’s floodlight turned off for this operation. Paul stood at a rusted out segment of the Wall – again, arranged for this op – and rubbed his gloved hands together as his breath frosted in the chill night air. He’d been there for almost an hour, and John was taking malicious pleasure in his discomfort. John himself was in a nearby van, toasty warm. “Hypothermia setting in yet, Paul?” he asked. “I’d bring you hot coffee, but that would blow our cover, sorry.”_ _

__“Fuck you,” Paul said under his breath. John just chuckled. He looked at Dorian and caught an answering twinkle in his eye, even as Dorian shook his head in mock-disapproval. Sandra, sitting next to Dorian, just sighed._ _

__Then she stiffened. John turned to look at the camera feed and saw it. Saw her. Anna, strolling casually out of the shadows. He knew she was talking to Paul, could see their mouths moving, but there was a strange buzzing in his ears and he couldn’t hear anything. He’d known she was involved, but to actually see it, actually see the woman he thought he’d loved, was something else entirely. She was just as beautiful as he remembered, but even through the poor quality video feed there was a coldness to her – they way she held herself, the look on her face – that he could feel, and he wondered how he’d ever missed it before._ _

__Through his fog he suddenly felt a jabbing at his side and realized that Dorian was trying to get his attention. “Hey, John,” Dorian was saying urgently._ _

__John shook his head and attempted to focus. “Yeah, what is it?” he asked._ _

__“There’s something off. Something wrong. She’s not buying it. I’m going to go sneak around behind her, make sure I can cut off her escape if she tries to run for it.”_ _

__“No, wait, don’t – “ John said, but it was too late. Dorian had already eased the van door open and silently sprinted out into the night. John cursed silently and moved to follow him. He was stopped by Sandra’s hand on his arm._ _

__“I won’t try and stop you; I know you better than that,” she whispered. “But for god’s sake stay out of sight. Don’t try to be a hero and don’t let Anna see you.”_ _

__John just glared – he wasn’t that much of an idiot – and then eased the van door closed behind him. He couldn’t see Dorian at all – vampires were pretty much masters of slipping into shadows. So he carefully crept in the direction he thought Dorian had taken – into an alley that led almost directly to where the meeting was taking place. He made it to the alley just in time to see a dark silhouette slipping through ahead of him. Dorian. Then a second silhouette slipped out and grabbed the first one. He saw a glint of metal. Shit._ _

__There was a scuffle but it was over quickly, Dorian being shoved out of the alley ahead of the other figure. Then he heard a voice. He knew that voice – it was Madeline Wu, the Bloodwine clan leader herself. “Well, look what I found here, Anna,” she was saying._ _

__Anna turned toward the alley and John flattened himself against the wall, holding his breath, thankful that neither of the women were werewolves with the associated sensory advantages. Blind as he’d been, he’d have noticed that about Anna, at least. Anna’s gaze fell on Dorian and Madeline behind him, holding a gun on him. Dorian turned to face Madeline, and his eyes widened slightly as they met John’s. Thank god, neither Anna nor Madeline seemed to have seen him yet._ _

__Madeline was still talking. “It’s one of the detectives on the serial case. They came to interview me about Sylvia. I told you this setup was too good to be true. And if he’s here, no doubt your boyfriend is around too.”_ _

__Anna rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, fine, you told me so,” she said. “Well, time to cut our losses.” And with that, she pulled out a gun and fired at Paul. John heard the bullet strike flesh and heard a grunt of pain. In a split second John was _elsewhere_. He wasn’t in an alley – he was lying on his back and Anna was standing over him, her eyes hard and blank as she killed Pelham, prepared to kill him. There was nothing he could do to stop her. He could only wait for death._ _

__“John!” he heard his name as if through a thick pane of glass. He shook his head woozily. Who was calling his name? It wasn’t Pelham, Pelham was dead. Right next to him, on the concrete, bleeding out. He heard his name shouted, with even greater urgency. No, wait – that was _Dorian_. Dorian, who needed him. _ _

__With an incredible effort of will, he shook off the past. He wasn’t fucking lying on the concrete. He was standing in an alley, doing nothing, like a complete asshole, while a fellow cop got shot and his partner grappled desperately with Wu, a vampire older and stronger than he was. John might’ve been helpless the last time he had faced Anna, but he sure as shit wasn’t helpless now._ _

__Still in the shadows of the alley, he pulled out his sidearm, leveled it at Anna, and exhaled slowly as he squeezed the trigger, letting go of the image of the girl he’d thought he’d known. He heard the report of the gun, saw the bullet fly straight and true and explode in Anna’s center of mass. Then her head snapped to meet his gaze and he was sure the shock in her expression was mirrored in his as he saw her fangs extend, heard her hiss, and then before he could react, she was whirling and diving into the shadows, wounded but very much _not_ dead._ _

__Half of him wanted to go after her, and the other half wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. But he did neither, because Dorian was still in danger. He and Wu were still grappling with the gun, which went off twice as they fought over it, causing John to duck down. Shit, how was he going to help Dorian? He wouldn’t have a chance of matching Wu’s physical strength, and he couldn’t shoot into the melee; he was as likely to hit Dorian as to hit Wu._ _

__Fuck it, he was going to jump into the fray and maybe he could at least distract Wu while Dorian took her down. He might get his neck broken for his troubles, but it would be worth it. Taking down someone who was trafficking in children wasn’t a bad way to go._ _

__Then he heard a hissed, “John, get down.” It was one of the few voices he would obey instantly, without question. He dropped to the ground, and watched as Wu’s head exploded messily, drenching Dorian with blood and gore. Dorian let out a groan and John had a moment of panic, then Dorian added, “Oh, man, that’s _disgusting_ ,” and wearily climbed to his feet. _ _

__John grinned and turned to his captain. “Nice shot, Sandra,” he said._ _

__She waved this off. “Anna’s a vampire, I take it?” she asked rhetorically. Apparently she’d seen Anna escape as well._ _

__John shook his head. “Not when I was with her. We shared that damn loft apartment, the thing is practically made of windows. She sure didn’t have a problem with sunlight then.”_ _

__Dorian had pulled off his shirt and was using the back of it to wipe the brain gunk off his face. John tried not to look at Dorian’s chest and arms. Well, sort of. He saw Sandra regarding him with a raised eyebrow and quickly snapped his gaze away. Shit, busted. She was smiling, though, which meant she approved. Not that it mattered, since nothing was going on. Or would be going on. He scowled at Sandra. She just smiled wider. Damn it._ _

__Dorian, who had, thank god, missed this exchange, spoke up. “If I had to guess, I’d say Madeline Wu turned her. They wouldn’t have been working that closely together unless they were the same clan, and Madeline was the head of Bloodwine. Wonder who’ll step into that vacancy?”_ _

__Sandra shook her head. “A problem for another day. For now, though, we’ve got enough to get into the Bloodwine clan’s finances, see if they were behind the smuggling and the serial and how Insyndicate fits in.”_ _

__“Where’s Paul?” John suddenly realized that the other detective had been wounded, God knew how badly. Okay, his concern was belated, but still. He’d remembered. Eventually._ _

__Sandra shot him another look, but just said, “He’s going to be okay. She winged him. He’s in the van, radioing for backup.”_ _

__As if to underline this pronouncement, John suddenly heard the wail of sirens. The adrenaline left him in a rush and he abruptly felt shaky and worn out. He trudged back toward the van and sat himself on the curb next to it._ _

__Dorian sat next to him and nudged John’s shoulder with his own. “You okay, man?” he asked, surprisingly gently. “That can’t have been easy.”_ _

__John thought of Anna’s face, how he remembered it before, and how he’d seen it most recently, twisted with rage. It wasn’t easy, no, but – surprisingly, it wasn’t as hard as he’d have imagined. He’d loved a mirage, not a real woman, and accepting that he’d been duped was almost harder than losing the girl he’d thought he’d loved. His pride was bruised, but his heart was intact._ _

__“I’m all right,” he said. “But I believe that’s twice in the past week that I’ve saved your life.”_ _

__“What? You didn’t save my life! Captain Maldonado did!” Dorian protested, his perfect brows high with outrage._ _

__“If I hadn’t been there to shoot Anna, she might’ve killed you,” John temporized. Okay, probably not, but Dorian couldn’t prove it. “That means you owe me.”_ _

__“Okay, whatever,” Dorian said tiredly. “I owe you.”_ _

__“Yeah you do,” John continued. “You owe me ALL the noodles.”_ _

__John watched the twinkle come back into Dorian’s eye and the smile form on his face. It was sort of adorable, that smile. “All the noodles, huh?” Dorian asked, the tension draining from his expression._ _

__“ALL of them,” John confirmed._ _

__“It’s a date,” Dorian said, with a slightly challenging eyebrow raised at John, as if to dare him to contradict this characterization._ _

__“ALL the noodles,” John repeated._ _

__Dorian’s smile grew. “Okay, it’s many dates.”_ _

__John nodded. “And you’re paying.”_ _

__Dorian mock-sighed. “Fine, but I’m taking my bed back. You can have the couch.”_ _

__“No way! I’m still an injured man! Look, wounds!” John said, pointing to one of his many bandaged scrapes._ _

__“But I just wrestled a much stronger vampire, I’m wounded too!”_ _

__They were still squabbling when Sandra interrupted them. “Boys, go home. There’s work to be done, but neither of you are fit to do it, and it’ll hold until tomorrow.”_ _

__John levered himself to his feet with a groan and Dorian rose with much more grace. John glared at him and Dorian looked back innocently._ _

__“Home, huh?” he asked Dorian._ _

__“Home,” confirmed Dorian. John decided he liked the sound of that._ _

__End._ _


End file.
